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we’ve got the room to ourselves, and this great view-“

    “Dream on, Logan.”

    He shrugs; “Hey we could always just keep things to your place or mine like last-“

    “Oh and enlighten me why the hell you’re living in my fucking building? Aren’t you a billionaire for Christ’s sake?” OK, I’ve got a great loft apartment in a great building in a fantastic location. But Logan’s in the sort of income bracket that keeps a whole other level of residences. I narrow my eyes at him, suddenly suspicious of why the hell he’s “slumming it” in an East Village loft with practically zero furniture.  

    “Oh calm down, Archer,” He growls, rolling his eyes. “I already told you, the penthouse is under construction, so I just decided to crash there.

    I narrow my eyes at him; “ You , a billionaire, just ‘crashing’ at a place with a single piece of furniture and a punching bag?”

    Logan grins; “So, you remember my single piece of furniture, huh?” He winks, and I know he’s talking about the bed; the bed from that night; “You can come by and see if whenever you want, you know.”

    I huff my breath out in disgust; “You’re delusional if you think that would ever happen again.”

    “Oh please, keep pretending you haven’t thought about it, cute stuff.” He taps the desk with his knuckle and then looks up at me in this over-the-top suggestive way that brings a flush to my cheeks; “I mean no one would have to know, darlin; might make working together go a little easier.”

    I roll my eyes, trying to subdue the grin threatening to spread across my face; “Oh, very romantic, Logan.”

    “Who said anything about romance?”

    I can feel my face getting hotter by the second as I start to lose my hold on my thoughts and as they begin to drift to all the dirty fantasies I’ve been having about him. Suddenly the room itself begins to feel warmer and smaller the longer I spend in it alone with him; “I need to go,” I say, shaking my head and staring towards the door.

    “Hey, hang on.” He reaches out and grabs my arm.

    I try and ignore the feeling of heat and buzzing electric current on my arm where he’s touching me as he steers me back around; “Are you going to be like this every time we meet, because if so, I’m done ,” I mutter, crossing my arms over my chest.

    He grins; “You wouldn’t, not with what it would mean for your research group funding.”

    “Try me.”

    His grin falters for just a second; “Fine. No, Doc, I won’t be.”

    “Good.” I can feel my own smirk on my face, feeling this momentary feeling of triumph.

    “Will you ?” He’s shrugging his jacket off and draping it over the back of his chair.

    I frown at him; “Excuse me?”

    “Be all moody and clearly sexually frustrated like this every time we need to be together for this project?” Logan starts to casually unbutton his dress shirt, and button after button reveals more and more hard muscled chest and etched lined ink of his tattoos.

    “No, I- What are you doing? ”

    He shrugs; “Oh, I have a free hour so I was going to head down to the gym; what?” He’s trying to act like it’s the most natural thing in the world for him to be taking his shirt off in front of me in his damn office. He reaches for his belt-buckle and smirks at me.

    Goddamn him. He’s trying to tease me and get a rise out of me, and I’m pissed because I know it’s kind of working . That fucking cocky smirk is right back on his face, and I feel my cool dropping; “Oh please fuck off.”

    I turn my back as he starts to lower his pants, if only because I feel like I should , even if part of me is dying to see Logan in just his boxers.

    Get a grip, lady ; I mutter to myself.

    “OK, you can look now,” He says sarcastically. I turn and find myself almost disappointed that he’s actually wearing shorts and a sleeveless t-shirt; “Listen, you know Peyton will probably treat you better if you let her know you can